


Appellation

by Dango_p0i



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Fluff, Gay Panic, M/M, Pining, Rufus is just in love without wanting to accept it, Sorta smug Tseng
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dango_p0i/pseuds/Dango_p0i
Summary: The moment Tseng stopped saying "Rufus" and started addressing him with "sir" wasn't a pleasant memory. Just one more time, he wishes to hear his name said in that voice which always left him wanting to listen just a little bit longer.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Kudos: 17





	Appellation

_Mister Vice President._

No, that’s wrong.

_Mister President._

“That’s right.”

So he said, but it wasn’t. It didn’t _feel_ right to hear it out of Tseng’s mouth, it never did even though it should have started to be music to his ears years ago. ‘Rufus’ in that smooth, trusting voice suddenly turned into ‘sir’, then ‘Vice President’, and now

“Mister President?” Tseng asked, a bit perplexed at seeing his superior still sitting at the huge marble desk adorning the space a set of polished stairs lead up to. Sky hued eyes let their vision blur for a second as they moved to divert their attention from scanning a document Rufus held in his gloved hand and instead focus on the leader of the Turks who approached with calm steps.

There it was again. “Tseng.”, Rufus replied, the name rolling off his tongue like it was his favorite word in the world to say out loud, tapping the stack of paper on the black marble surface to put it together neatly. The sheets handed to him by Scarlet earlier that day were placed back into the folder they had been taken from. Tseng patiently waited for the blond to finish doing so, though he was ready to go home, the president observed, seeing as the pitch black jacket of his suit that matched the deep darkness of the night sky was already tucked under his arm. And yet the ceiling lights let his eyes stand out as the brightest stars in the universe, defeating all the hollowness the coal color presented.

Rufus folded his hands, a calm smile resting on plush lips as he placed his chin on his intertwined fingers, elbows supporting that decision by stemming themselves on the table. “And what are you still doing here? It’s late already, you should go home.”, he said, though less like an order, and more as an invitation. The Turk, now standing right at his superior’s desk, merely offered a smile in return to the one thrown at him, his own revealing that it’s been a long, stressful day. He’d never let his frustration out on others, Rufus knew that for a fact. “I was about to do that, actually, but I saw that the lights were still on here. You should call it quits for today as well, sir.”

Wasn’t it unfair? That everyone could be called by their first name if it was him saying it, but the moment the ones in inferior positions dared to do so, all hell broke loose? No, it wasn’t. That’s the way a hierarchy works, but Rufus has never seen Tseng in a different light than the man that saved his life before he could take care of himself.

The blond man sighed and leaned back in the pompous office chair, eyes falling shut, head tipping back against the padding of his seat. He crossed his arms, twirling his foot that fell asleep and went numb quite a while ago underneath the table. Baby blue, barely visible with how lidded his eyes were after letting them flutter open just the slightest, squinted at the high up ceiling of the 70th floor. His lips thinned, making him look clearly displeased. Noticeably, it seemed.

“Sir?”

“Rufus.”

Tseng blinked in a state of obvious confusion, but tried his best to suppress the frown his eyebrows tried to plaster on his face. “That… is your name, yes.” Unusual, he noted, though everyone who’s part of the company would agree with him in an instant if he were to tell anyone about this encounter. Or maybe they wouldn’t even believe him despite knowing the fact that him and Rufus have always been close.

A connection through family. Tseng was considered fortunate to have a father that was part of SOLDIER. Have had, that is. He was one of the warriors that didn’t have luck on their side during the conflict in Wutai several years ago, but while still being present, he was close to a handful of notable people一 including President Shinra himself. His dying wish was for his son to fill in his shoes of becoming a strong SOLDIER, someone to carry on the legacy.

Things didn’t quite go as planned when a 15 year old Tseng rescued Rufus from being kidnapped. A child murderer, but in a more literal sense. He shot three people that day, but years of training to honor his father prepared him that, someday, it had to happen. It all fell in place way too perfectly. He was deemed incredibly capable, trained a few more years and in the blink of an eye, Tseng was the second in command of the Turks一 then soon, their leader. Rufus’ safety was a top priority. It always had been.

But it became something personal, too, and it stayed even when he grew up to be independent.

It was difficult at first. Rufus suddenly wasn’t just a friend anymore, or couldn’t be considered such at all in some people’s eyes, but he was far above Tseng in the food chain. A bond to be broken by the necessity of building a competent front that can lead a business. 

A front, that’s what it was.

Towards Tseng at least. Everyone else should respect him, look at him with the knowledge of one wrong move potentially getting them to lose their entire existence. The raven haired man on the other hand, for him, Rufus would hold as many meetings, convince as many people, sign as many things as necessary to just have him stay around a little longer, just so the fantasy of a mutual understanding that no superiority complex existed could stay real in his horizon mirrored eyes. One day, it would be too late though, and they’d part ways, remembered as a boss and his subordinate,

He didn’t know when it would happen.

“Sir? Is everything alright?”

He didn’t know if he wanted it to happen.

“Sir.”

He _didn’t_ want it to happen.

“Sir!”

“Ah-?” Rufus blinked as he was ripped away from standing on his little star so far above his own cloudy thoughts and dragged back to the ground of reality. He perked up when the cool back of a slender hand was pressed to his forehead. He didn’t move, though, didn’t swat it away. The president stayed still, instead focusing on how the well kept raven strands were drooping Tseng’s shoulder, sliding further and further until falling in front of his face, so close he could see every imperfect perfection the dark knight had to offer. The swaying of his necktie synced up with the pendulum his hair was, while his other hand kept him propped up and leaned over the desk, jacket discarded onto the granite surface in the space between his hip and arm. Rufus swallowed inaudibly.

“Your temperature seems to be normal…“, the older man muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his prior, perfectly-postured position, “Are you alright, sir?” Was he? Ifrit knows if he was, but he had to be.

A confident nod from the head of the Shinra company who sat up in his chair with a puffed out chest, head held high. Too puffed out, too high, too proud for what just happened and made him lose composure for just a split second. “Of course,”, he went back to his usual relaxed demeanor, “I was lost in my thoughts, excuse that.” If Tseng would buy it was a different story. Although, it seemed like luck was on Rufus’ side, since the smart move of getting up from his office chair to signal he’d be calling it a day as well appeared to satisfy the previously worried Turk.

“I see.”, said Turk nodded, “I won’t have to escort you home then, no?” Rufus huffed, yet the smile stayed. “I’m certain, yes. Now, goodnight, Tseng.”, the CEO tried in hope of convincing Tseng that, yes, he’s alright and that, oh, it _is_ pretty late so he could be left alone with his hidden red-faced faux-fever. The short bow of the long haired man caused him to relax a little, furthermore so when he turned around to leave.

Slow, almost too elegant for what his occupation truly was steps made their way to the door he entered the large room through. They automatically pushed themselves to the side to let Tseng pass, who stopped standing between them. A hand was held up in a half-assed wave, “Goodnight,” he returned, whipping his head around, hair flowing with the sudden movement, following so perfectly, almost like the scene was ripped straight from an expertly done movie, “Rufus.”

It rolled off his tongue perfectly, like it was his favorite word in the world. Like he could quote the textbook definition by heart and with such passion which his natural sense of professionalism usually got in the way of. The ‘s’ at the rear of his name was fulfilled in the slightest smile, one he only saw for a very short moment before the raven disappeared into the nightly darkness of the hallway and the glass doors slid shut behind him. Even so, it was the most meaningful one he’s seen that whole day.

“That’s right.”


End file.
